


Young Carlos Declares a Major

by OrdinaryBird



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryBird/pseuds/OrdinaryBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Slater-Tershal attempts to advise the most ambitious freshmen she has ever met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Carlos Declares a Major

**Author's Note:**

> A short piece written for the "Science" day of Carlos Appreciation Week.

Freshmen are assigned advisers at random, based on prospective major. Looking over the transcripts on her desk again, Professor Slater-Tershal thought she’d lucked out, as far as the incoming future-scientists were concerned; he was a first-generation college student with great recommendations and a 3.85 GPA as of high school graduation. He’d received enough merit-based scholarships to cover three academic years before he even started his first. This young man, she thought, was going places.

But she was beginning to see, as she looked at the wide, eager brown eyes magnified behind thick glasses, the note of warning behind the glowing words from previous teachers. _Extremely dedicated. A very persistent scholar. More persistent than you could possibly imagine._

“So, Carlos,” she said, swishing the bottomful of cold coffee around her U of WII mug, “have you given some thought to a prospective major yet?”

“Yeah.” There was a hint of nervousness behind his smile and he was bouncing his foot, making the chair creak slightly. “Science.”

“Well. Yes. But which field?”

He looked down at his shoes, then back up at her. “All of them?”

“You have room for a double major, and maybe a minor as well if you don’t feel like sleeping ever again. And don’t forget the general education requirements. So we’ll have to narrow that down a little.”

“Okay, so then maybe not botany. My major will be every science but botany.”

They stared at each other across the desk. “Carlos, that isn’t a major.”

“I’m confused.” He leaned forward and his hands fluttered like irritated pigeons evading a bicyclist. “If I meet all the requirements, I’ve finished the major, right? And I have eight semesters to do it. No sweat.” His gestures ended with a dismissive wave.

“Even if you could—I mean—we need something to put on your diploma, at least.”

“Science.”

“That’s not how majors work. The idea of higher education is to slowly whittle down to one specialty—”

“So, can I whittle out all the general education classes and specialize in science?”

Slater-Tershal swirled her coffee again and eyed him over the top of the cup. “Don’t get me wrong, your dedication is something to be admired. But—Carlos, you’re nineteen. Even if you ignore the importance of developing a network of peers, you have to get out of the lab at some point. Rest is important. Self-care is important. Sleep—regular meals—recreation—these things are all important. You need space to develop socially, to grow as a person. And one of the most critical lessons for a young scientist,” she said, only half-believing it herself but feeling that she was already committed to the sentiment, “is that just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Hmmm.” His foot bounced faster. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“But, like, how sure?”

“Okay, you know what? Listen.” She set down her mug and clicked around her computer screen, the green glow giving her a chance to look away from those strangely intense eyes. “I’ll put you down as undecided for now and we will revisit this topic later, after you’ve had a chance to adjust to your course load.”

“So we’re agreeing to disagree.”

“No. We are agreeing to discuss it at a later date.”

Their eyes met again. His straight face was impressive, but she had the feeling he was, somehow, disappointed with her personally. “I don’t mean any insult, it’s just that, even with these transcripts, you haven’t experienced college-level work yet.” She squinted down at the pages again. “Well, except in physics, apparently.”

"And chemistry," he added.

"Anyway, my point is, something half as ambitious as what you’re planning would overwhelm even the best students.”

He looked away, toward the window, with a half smile. “I’m not a student, professor. I’m a scientist.”


End file.
